


i'm looking for a place to start

by behindenemylines



Category: Batman - All Media Types
Genre: Angst with a Happy Ending, Crying, Dick just wants Jason to feel loved, M/M, POV Second Person, Past Character Death, Rough sex that turns slow and tender, kind of
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-05-21
Updated: 2019-05-21
Packaged: 2020-03-09 01:10:04
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,565
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/18906445
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/behindenemylines/pseuds/behindenemylines
Summary: Dick gives Jason what he needs.





	i'm looking for a place to start

**Author's Note:**

  * Translation into 中文 available: [【授翻/Dickjay】i'm looking for a place to start](https://archiveofourown.org/works/18983089) by [LeeZing](https://archiveofourown.org/users/LeeZing/pseuds/LeeZing)



> I wrote this two years ago and finally decided to post it. I don't have that much experience writing smut so hopefully it's at least passable. 
> 
>  
> 
> Title from "Yellow Light" by Of Monsters and Men.

His hair is a mess—sticking up in every direction and sweaty from wearing that helmet—and you bite down on the urge to run your fingers through it. He’s never reacted well to casual touching and you really don’t want to set him off right now when it’s clear that he’s barely hanging on as it is. The shadows beneath his eyes stand out above his too-sharp cheekbones and there’s some blood on his jaw and maybe you’re a little freaked out because he’s suddenly on your doorstep after _months_ off the grid.

And if you taste a hint of gun polish in his mouth when you kiss him, well. You tell yourself it’s none of your business; that he’ll talk to you when he’s ready. You deliberately don’t think about all the things he doesn’t tell you—hasn’t told you for a long time. 

Jason used to be an open book, before. Always running his mouth, all bravado and smartass comments. He’d tell you anything that came to his mind, even when you didn’t want to listen. Back when you were a self-centered asshole, still hurt at being replaced, who couldn’t be bothered to lend an ear to a kid desperately crying out to be heard. 

And then he died and everything changed.

Now it’s damn near impossible to tell what he’s thinking, what he’s feeling. The only thing Jason wears on his sleeve anymore is his rage; white hot and all consuming. He’s built it up like a layer of armor between himself and the rest of the world. It kills you to know that he doesn’t trust you, or anyone else, anymore. Hasn’t for a long time.

When he suddenly disappeared after a major fall out with Bruce involving the Joker, you feared the worst. Bruce and Jason’s relationship had been incredibly strained leading up to the fight and Bruce, in his usual emotionally stunted manner, had set Jason off. No one could find him afterwards, not even Barbara. He simply vanished. It scared you more than you would care to admit that you might have lost him a second time.

But now he’s finally come home, after three impossibly long months, and maybe he’s a little worse for wear but he’s _alive_ and he’s _here_ and you’re so damn grateful. You can’t even bring yourself to mind the way he kisses back a little too fierce, a few too many teeth. You just want to wrap him up and never let go but you settle for grabbing the front of his leather jacket and guiding him over to your bed. He pushes you down onto it before dropping to his knees between your legs. He barely even takes the time to pull open your pants before his mouth is on you and you thank every god in existence that you didn’t put on underwear this morning. 

His mouth is as hot as fire, burning you to your core. Jason relaxes his throat muscles, taking you in all the way and swallowing around your dick, and you take a moment to wonder how he learned to do that before he pulls off a little to give you a few hard sucks and graze his teeth along your hyper-sensitive skin. You gasp and moan beneath him and you’re so damn _close_ , the fire consuming you, but then his mouth is gone. You’re about to question it, maybe complain a little, but when you open your eyes you see him kicking off his worn jeans and then he climbs onto your lap.

“Wait, the lube is around here somewhere-“

The words barely leave your mouth, but it’s too late. He’s already sinking down onto you and it’s agonizing—he didn’t prep himself, though the wet mess he left on your dick does ease the way a little—and he’s so damn tight. You both hiss out strained breaths. Then, after what feels like an eternity, you’re finally all the way inside him. His fire is burning you alive, coursing through your veins to your heart and you’ve never felt anything so intense in your entire life. He doesn’t give either of you time to adjust, just raises up and slams back down again forcefully. It’s painful and there’s a grimace on his face. It breaks you that he’s hurting himself like this.

“Ho-hold on, Jay,” You pant, grabbing his hips to hold him still. “Are you oka—”

“I’m fine,” He growls out and it’s so familiar, the same bullshit line he’s probably been spouting his whole life, but he’s started shaking and your heart shatters a little more. You’re about to push him off when he whispers, “Please, Dick… lemme do this. I need to do this,” and you hate yourself when you don’t say no.

“Okay—okay. Just go a little slower, yeah? I don’t want you hurting yourself. Please.” You say instead and his shoulders sag a little before he nods. 

You always had a certain power over him when you guys were younger that you don’t like to examine too closely. But you think it maybe has something to do with the crush he had on you back then (and maybe still carries to this day). He never really obeyed authority, not even Bruce, but he always listened to you. You really hate exploiting that vulnerability, but sometimes he doesn’t give you any choice. 

“Is this okay?” Your fingers move from his hips to tug at the bottom of his shirt. Jason’s never liked being exposed but you’re selfish. You’ve missed him so badly and all you want is to drink him in and never forget this moment—just in case it’s the last. He hesitates for a long couple of seconds before shrugging off his leather jacket and allowing you to pull his shirt over his head. The moonlight filtering through the open window sets his pale skin alight and, even with the scars—ones that match your own and ones that don’t—littering his body, he’s the most beautiful thing you’ve ever seen. 

He starts moving again, still a little too tense, a little too rough, and you’ve finally had enough. So you wrap your arms around him and shift him up from your lap so that you can lay him out on the bed (and you make a mental note to shove some food down his throat later because he’s never been this easy to maneuver, even with your more-than-modest biceps). He startles at the change in position.

“The fuck—?” He starts to say but you shut him up with a kiss.

“I wanna make you feel good, okay? Will you let me?” You whisper against his lips and when Jason grumbles his assent, you press kisses down his neck in gratitude and shuck off your shirt and pants. You slide into him again and it’s much easier now that he’s a little more relaxed. Moving slow and deep, relishing in every sharp intake of breath or muttered curse, in the way his fingers dig into your shoulders just a little too hard. You honestly can’t wait to see the bruises there tomorrow (and you don’t let yourself think about how fucked up that sounds). Your mouth finds a nipple and latches on. Jason arches into it, letting out a low moan when your teeth graze the sensitive nub. 

“God, Jay,” You breathe against his chest. “I’ve missed you so much.”

He makes a noise that sounds pained. “Please stop talking.” 

“It’s true.” You kiss your way back up to his neck, punctuating each one with a roll of your hips. His leg wraps around your waist, trying to urge you to go faster, but you ignore it. “You really scared us, disappearing like that.”

“Dick—“

“I know you don’t want to hear this,” You cut him off, stilling your movements. He goes tense underneath you yet you continue on because he _has_ to understand. “But we care about you, Little Wing. Bruce cares. _I_ care.”

“Shut up.” Jason exhales shakily. He brings one arm up to cover his eyes while his other hand grips the bed sheets underneath him. 

“You matter to all of us. So damn much.” Your hips start moving once again, slow and deep, pulling tiny gasps from his throat. “I just wish you could see it.”

He doesn’t respond but you notice the way his body has started shaking. You can feel yourself teetering on the edge. You want him to let go and leap over it with you. 

“You are _loved_ , Jason.” You whisper it into his ear like a confession. He lets out a choked sob and then his release slides sticky between your bodies and that’s all you need. You kiss away the tears from his face before finally chasing your own climax. 

Later, after you’ve gotten cleaned up, you lay curled around him, warm and comfortable. His breathing slowly evens out and you press a kiss between his shoulder blades before closing your own eyes. As you begin to drift off, the fleeting thought that he’ll be long gone before you wake crosses your mind. Leaving nothing more than a cold, empty place in your arms. There’s a pang, deep in your heart, but you don’t let yourself linger on it. 

That's something to worry about tomorrow.

Because right now, for this one tiny moment, you're almost happy.


End file.
